Changing as he does from nonentity to villain to wounded animal to
prospective hero, Lieutenant Commander Philip Francis Queeg is the
traditional lynchpin of The Caine Mutiny Court-Martial. Beginning as one of
many witnesses for the prosecution and ending as the star witness for the
defense, he's always been responsible for diverting the direction of Herman
Wouk's incisive courtroom melodrama.

But in the new revival at the Schoenfeld, Queeg takes on a greater
responsibility: He must transform a sitcom into theatre.

It's a challenge that could be considered the entertainment equivalent of
storming the beach at Normandy. Some actors might rightfully be cowed by an
imposing director (four-time Tony winner Jerry Zaks) and superstar castmates
who made their names in high-profile 30-minute comedies on NBC (David
Schwimmer and Tim Daly), and fall under their superficial spell. Were Queeg
played by just about anyone under these circumstances, all bets would be
off.

Zeljko Ivanek, however, is not just anyone. A resourceful and highly
adaptable theatre actor who excels at playing moderately disturbed authority
figures (and did as recently as last season, in The Pillowman), he not only
survives the bloodbath of indifference surrounding him, but emerges
victorious, as if awaiting the Silver Star for bravery.

Such an honor would not be undeserved here. Without the businessman-like
balance Ivanek brings to the impassionedly imbalanced Queeg, there would be
nothing to recommend about this waterlogged mounting of the 1954 play, which
Wouk based on his own novel. Yet when Queeg takes the stand for the defense
in the second act and slowly places a noose around his own neck, you get the
theatrical jolt you've been craving since the curtain rose.

In the first act, under the questioning of prosecutor Lieutenant Commander
John Challee (Daly), Ivanek is headstrong and sure, strongly defending his
choices as commander of the destroyer-minesweeper Caine. But when
interrogated by defense attorney Barney Greenwald (Schwimmer), he begins
melting like an ice cube on a hot day. Ivanek seems to physically shrink as
his fašade of self-confidence starts topples around him, and as his
nervousness mounts, he sheds years off his life and morphs into a frightened
child for whom the merest accusation is like a stab wound.

Commanding as Ivanek's performance is, it's an act of self-mutilation during
what should be a lacerating duel. Queeg isn't the one on trial; that's
Lieutenant Stephen Meryk (Joe Sikora), who stands accused of mutinously
relieving Queeg during a typhoon. But Greenwald believes that casting doubt
on Queeg's mental stability is the only way to get Meryk off, and thus takes
him on head-to-head.

But Schwimmer displays no determined, fast-on-his-feet fire. His stiff,
dumbstruck manner more recalls Ross Geller, the paleontologist he played on
the long-running Friends, than the ordered disciplinarian who detonate the
chain of command that for him is everything. His emotions range from sly
calmness to calm slyness, with none of the shading you'd expect from someone
as conflicted as Greenwald who's under pressure not far removed from Queeg's
(Greenwald states outright that he'd rather prosecute Meryk than defend
him).

Daly likewise mimics his Joe Hackett from TV's Wings, down to the toothy
grins and meaningful pauses that separate the serious comedic actors from
the amateurs. Sikora and the parade of prosecution witnesses resound with
all the coherence of Cameo Stars during May Sweeps (though these include no
big names). The most successful are Brian Reddy and Tom Nelis as two
doctors who pinpoint Queeg's psychological problems, but even they reduce to
one-note comedy roles that would benefit from more depth. Even Terry Beaver
chooses empty jocularity instead of some more interesting officiousness as
the court-martial's judge.

The pervasiveness of this flattening funny-ing must have been Zaks's
intentional choice, though the reasoning behind it is never entirely clear.
(Though Schwimmer and Daly made their names in television, they both have
significant stage experience.) Nonetheless, the effect is devastating: It
reduces this tale of military morality (which has no civilian analogue) to
one of near-insignificance, as colorless and nondescript as John Lee
Beatty's bus-and-truck courtroom set. (William Ivey Long's crisp Navy blues
and Paul Gallo's lights are better.)

It's especially unfortunate given the perceived current favor of the United
States military, in America and around the world. Whether you agree or
disagree with the arguments on which Wouk's play turns - especially in the
final scene, which throws a wicked wrench into the machinery of both the
characters' prejudices and ours - the issues raised are important ones
deserving the serious discussion and debate that the best theatre can
provoke.

That makes Ivanek still more compelling, as he's the only fully realized
embodiment of the play's most crucial theme that nothing can be accepted at
face value. Just as you feel you know and understand Queeg, new information
forces you to reevaluate your judgments, yet Ivanek's Queeg never actually
changes; you just see him differently. It's not until the end of both his
climactic breakdown and the play itself that you can see all of both sides
of the issue.

The Caine Mutiny Court-Martial demands an equally considered, thoughtful
examination of its elements to elicit the most powerful impact on the way we
view the world and those who fight to protect our part of it. Zaks has
structured his production for people who just can't wait to change the
channel.